


five stars

by bukowsking



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom!Harry, Grinding, Intoxication, Kissing, M/M, Sassy Louis, Uber, brief gryles, harry is the little spoon, i suck at writing smut please bear with me, like extremely brief, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukowsking/pseuds/bukowsking
Summary: Slipping his wallet into the front pocket of his black skinny jeans, Louis makes his way down the hallway of his small-yet-homey apartment in the West Village of New York City, and secures his shoes to his feet before exiting quickly. He’s got his 2008 Ford Flex gassed up and the credit card payment of one Mr. H. Styles in his Uber app. The pick-up spot has been arranged at a swanky nightclub in Midtown Manhattan, so Louis is already conjuring up ideas of what the mysterious H. Styles will be like.orthe one in which Louis is an Uber driver and Harry is his client for the night.





	five stars

**Author's Note:**

> i know i haven't posted in a while. writer's block is the worst. i've never used uber before so if there's any logical errors, please forgive me. i own nothing but the storyline. 
> 
> enjoy. xx

Louis Tomlinson never anticipated anything of substance to come of his being an Uber driver, except some extra cash in his pocket, which he saved for rainy days and his weed dealer. That being said, the events that are to follow on this breezy August evening are a genuine surprise.

Slipping his wallet into the front pocket of his black skinny jeans, Louis makes his way down the hallway of his small-yet-homey apartment in the West Village of New York City, and secures his shoes to his feet before exiting quickly. He’s got his 2008 Ford Flex gassed up and the credit card payment of one Mr. H. Styles in his Uber app. The pick-up spot has been arranged at a swanky nightclub in Midtown Manhattan, so Louis is already conjuring up ideas of what the mysterious H. Styles will be like.

It’s clear to him that this client is well over the poverty line, being that the club in which he’s spent his evening is well, well out of Louis’ price range. It was the type of venue in which only celebrities and wealthy trust fund babies dwelled, and since there was no such celebrity that was named H. Styles to his knowledge, that only left the latter option. Normally, Louis wasn’t one to judge books by their covers, but if there’s anything that annoys him to no end, it’s stuck up rich folk with holier-than-thou attitudes. He briefly sent a prayer up to the God he doesn’t believe in, asking to ensure that his client this evening would not live up to his mind’s expectations.

The ride there went without so much as a hiccup, the 1 a.m. traffic typical of the city that never sleeps. Louis’ Spotify daily mix crackled over the speakers, the soothing sound of Alex Turner’s voice serving as a wonderful alternative to the overwhelming silence and _woosh_ of the aircon. Once pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the club, Louis unlocked his phone, opened the Uber app, notified H. Styles that he had arrived, and swiftly pulled up a game to keep himself occupied as he waited. Just as he was in the middle of finally solving the damned crossword puzzle in front of him, two brunettes in a gangly mess of limbs stumbled into the backseat. No greeting, not one word exchanged. Instead, Louis was welcomed by the sight of one lanky, tall man sitting on the lap of the other, the wet sound of their lips overpowering the Arctic Monkey’s AM album. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Louis cleared his dry throat and spoke just loudly enough to get the couples’ attention.

“Ah, ‘m afraid I’m gonna be needing an address, lads.”

It’s then that the man on top moves just the slightest to the right, allowing for Louis and the other man to make eye contact in the rear view mirror. His emerald eyes are glassy and unfocused; a clear indication of just how much he’s had to drink tonight. The pulling feeling in the pit of Louis’ stomach gets written off as just a result of the fact that he hasn’t eaten anything since his late lunch. Then, the smoothest, deepest voice he’s ever heard breaks through the barrier of sound.

“Hi, I’m Harry. Harry Styles.” The green eyed man speaks in a breathless timbre, causing a tingle to run through the course of Louis’ spine. _It’s just the breeze, it’s just the breeze_ , is the mantra he repeats in his head.

“Well that’s lovely, darling, but I’m still gonna need an address. Unless you plan on kipping in the back of my car?” The term of endearment slips past his chapped lips with ease, surprising everyone in the vehicle including himself. The response comes not from Harry, but instead from his partner.

“It’s 60th and Park Avenue, now _drive_.” He spits out, eager to re-attach his lips to Harry’s. Harry, instead, scoffs and stops the other man’s movements, giving him an indignant look.

“Don’t be rude, Nicholas. Louis here has sacrificed his Saturday night to drive us prats around, and we should be treating him with kindness and respect.”

Yeah, _Nicholas_ , Louis thinks snarkily to himself, putting the car into drive but not pulling away just yet, as a spat has begun in the backseat. He overhears a few choice words, and before he can blink, _Nicholas_ is telling Harry he can jerk himself off tonight, followed by the slam of the car door as he leaves.

Although Louis is quite honestly relieved at the departure of Harry’s... whatever he was, he can’t help the slight feeling of guilt that settles in his gut. “I, um. I’m sorry about that, it’s never a fun time having fights with a boyfriend. Or, uh, any type of friend, really.” Louis stumbles over his words, coughing a bit.

“Nick isn’t my boyfriend.” Harry is quick to correct, sniffling a bit and adjusting the collar of his see-through blouse, for lack of a better word. It’s covered in roses and somehow Louis had missed the fact that it was barely buttoned, allowing Harry’s tattooed and defined chest to make an appearance. He shakes his head, in an attempt to clear his impure thoughts, eyes refocusing on Harry’s chiseled face as he speaks.

“Well, I’m still sorry, mate. Is that address still good, or would you rather me take you somewhere else?” He questions, keeping his sight on the dejected man in his backseat.

“It’s my apartment, so that address is fine. Would it be alright if I joined you in the front, though?” Harry asks, a hopeful tinge to his words. Louis nods silently; making sure the passenger seat is clean as the lanky man makes his way up to the front. Once he’s settled in and buckled, Louis offers him a small, reassuring smile and finally pulls away from the curb.

They’re greeted with a red light at the end of the first block, the hairs in front of Louis’ eyes getting blown aside as he exhales, reaching over for his phone to select a new playlist. He notices Harry’s lips twitch up into a smile when The 1975’s self-titled album begins to play, and so he lets the music be as he drives forward once the light turns green. The first few minutes of their journey are silent save for the music, until Harry runs an obscenely large hand through his curls and finally speaks.

“So, I hope this ride didn’t, like, ruin your night or anything. I hope you didn’t have to cancel plans for this… bullshit.” His voice is slow and smooth like molasses, and if Louis is being honest with himself, he could get off to the sound of Harry just reading the dictionary. He chokes back an involuntary whine, and gets to providing Harry with some reassurance.

“No, no, don’t worry about it, babe. In all honesty, I had a hot date with Netflix and some of me mum’s homemade rice pudding.” He admitted with a bit of a flush to his cheeks, realizing that that may have made seem like just a tad bit of a lonely loser. The bright lights of Times Square cast a shining gleam over Harry’s skin, dimples popping as he grinned bemusedly.

“Rice pudding is delicious, you’re a lucky man.” Harry responded with a playful wink, and then Louis fell in love when he heard the man’s soft giggle. It takes a moment for him to get his heart rate down and his head to stop swimming, but once he does, he continues the conversation.

“That it is, that it is. I’d say you were even luckier tonight, but that guy seemed like a right twat.”

He’s rewarded with Harry’s snorting laugh, his cute button nose all scrunched up and his dimples making themselves known yet again. “You’re not wrong, really. Nick and I only ever hook up when he’s between boyfriends and I’m too drunk to care, so it’s not like, a steady thing, you know?” Harry turns his head to look at the smaller man in the driver’s seat, hands rubbing over the tops of his jean-clad thighs.

“I get that. Honestly, the last time I had a steady boyfriend was back in uni and he turned out to be fucking me mate Zayn’s ex-girlfriend behind our backs.” Louis’ statement is met with a surprised, eyebrows-raised look from Harry, to which Louis responds with a taut smile. “It’s all good though, I got my fair share of lays as revenge, including once with Zayn.”

The honesty with which he’s been speaking is shocking, but Harry seems like the type of person that even the most socially anxious individual could open up to. It must be those damned soft green eyes and that charming smile of his.

“And what about lately? Still getting your fair share of lays?” Harry’s question causes Louis to be the one surprised now, laughing a bit as he grips onto the steering wheel a bit more tightly, taking this moment at the next red light to really drink Harry in. He’s all length, his legs stretching for what seems to be miles. The jeans serve to accentuate his shape, making it obvious to Louis that he works out and eats all the right things. As previously mentioned, his chest is also well defined, in a way that almost makes Louis jealous; his stomach is full of nothing but cheap beer and McDonald’s, whereas Harry’s is most likely full of kale salads and lemon water. And then there’s that fucking face. A jawline crafted by the Greek gods, the smallest bit of stubble beginning to grow in. That cute nose, those hypnotizing eyes, complimented with smooth skin and perfectly groomed eyebrows. The man is a walking Adonis.

Louis quickly composed himself to answer the question, but it seemed that Harry had already noticed the way Louis was thoroughly checking him out. The blue eyed man’s cheeks dusted over pink, stumbling a bit over his words when he spoke. “W-Well, not really, actually. I try, but, you know, guess I’m just not anyone’s type.”

They’ve reached 56th street, and oddly enough, the closer they get, the more Louis is silently hoping the traffic slows down their ride. Regardless of Harry’s attractiveness, the vibe that he’s been putting out is comfortable and reassuring, warm like a fireplace in the dead of winter. Louis hasn’t had good conversation in months.

“You’re my type.” Harry shrugs, a hint of a smirk hanging on his rose-tinted lips.

Louis is pretty sure he’s going into cardiac arrest.

Before he can so much as blink, the long fingers of Harry’s left hand are trailing their way over Louis’ knee and making their way upward, tracing the seam of his jeans. Louis swallows thickly, nearly missing the gas pedal as the light switches to green. His eyelids flutter just the slightest bit, teeth catching on his bottom lip as he glances over to Harry. His eyes have blown wide with lust, and his gaze hasn’t moved from Louis’ face.

“Is this okay, babe?” The dripping honey of Harry’s voice sounded, as Louis didn’t hesitate one moment before nodding eagerly. It had been nearly a year since he’d had (good) sex, and it wasn’t like he was going to turn down the most handsome man he had ever encountered in his twenty five years of existence.

Once Harry had received Louis’ consent, the curly haired man had leaned over to begin kissing and sucking at the hollow where Louis’ neck met his shoulder. Louis bit back a moan, in a contrived attempt at hiding how effected he already was by Harry’s ministrations. 59th street was quickly approaching, and the deep feeling of want stirring in Louis’ groin grew with each minute that Harry’s sinful lips were attached to his skin. That being said, a whine emitted from his throat when the beautiful curly haired man pulled away, only to be satiated when Harry spoke.

“When we get to my block, park and come upstairs. We’re finishing what we’ve started.”

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

Harry’s apartment was… very Harry-esque, to put it simply. Settled in on one of the top floors, Harry’s fumbling and lengthy fingers unlocked the tan colored front door to reveal an extensive foyer, decorated with two tables and a few plants, along with a bowl for keys and a space for guests to place their shoes; quite minimalist. This is the most Louis gets to see of the foyer before he’s gripped by the shoulders and pushed up against the wall, lips taken hold of by the soft skin of Harry’s. Their kiss remains innocent for all of six seconds, interrupted by the introduction of tongues and Harry’s hand in his hair.

Moans echo throughout the hallway, and at this point it was indistinguishable as to whose they were. Louis’ shapely hips canted forward of their own accord, and his movements were rewarded with the sound of Harry’s deep groan. Soon enough, the hand that had been entangled in Louis’ soft brunette locks is making its way southward, this time coming to rest on the dip in Louis’ waist.

“Got such a nice little body, baby. Wanna see the way you move for me.” The husky sound of Harry’s voice filled the silence, a warm tingle settling in the pit of Louis’ stomach. His own breaths were now coming out in short pants, unable to stop himself from grinding up even harder against Harry’s solid body. The resounding growl that leaves Harry’s mouth must be a figment of Louis’ imagination, because there’s _no way_ he’s getting that much of a reaction out of this fit boy. _Man_.

It appears this isn’t a fever dream, though, as Harry has lifted the smaller man up by the meat of his thighs, securing Louis’ legs around his narrow waist. Their journey down the hallway and into the bedroom is all but smooth, little giggles falling from Harry’s lips as he stumbled over his own two feet like Bambi. Fucking _giggles_. This beautiful man would be the death of Louis, surely. Their mouths were still pressed flush together, clothes making a trail as they peeled each other out of them. If Louis thought he was insecure about his body before, it’s nothing compared to now. Being able to see the nude expanse of Harry’s entire frame as they finally entered the bedroom was, in a way, the worst thing to ever happen to him. Harry’s every line and muscle was defined and sturdy, he had an athletic body. This caused Louis’ inner voice to get to him, quickly crossing his arms over his slightly pudgy stomach as he was placed down onto the mattress in a missionary position.

“Don’t cover yourself, love, you look absolutely perfect. All soft and tanned, just for me.” Harry’s sentence came out in a sort of purr-like way, and for a brief moment, Louis allowed his words to be true, to soothe him. Uncrossing his arms, Louis still flushed pink in embarrassment; regardless of Harry’s flattery, he knew he was far from _perfect_. But if Harry could pretend for the evening, so could he.

Louis’ thought process was rather abruptly interrupted by the feeling of Harry’s lips on him once again, this time trailing the space where his hips met his thighs. To have this boy so close to his aching length, Louis hissed beneath his breath and attempted to gather all the strength he could muster to not come on the spot.  Quiet pants filled the room when the pillowy lips of Harry’s mouth wrapped around Louis’ leaking tip, pink tongue darting out to work its way over the slit.

“Oh my _fuck_.” Louis’ sentiments were met with a soft chuckle from Harry, whose lashes fluttered as he wrapped an obscenely large hand around Louis’ thickness, working what he couldn’t reach with his mouth.

By the time Harry has started bobbing , Louis’ fingers were wound tightly in his curls, gripping like his life depended on it. He couldn’t deny the warmth building in his groin, and the taut feeling of his balls. If Harry didn’t stop, he was going to come like this.

“H-Harry, Harry, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come.”

Once Louis’ warning was voiced, everything seemed to become a heady blur of limbs and groans, as Harry climbed atop Louis’ hips and reached over to fumble in the nightstand for his stash of lube and condoms. As soon as these items were acquired, Harry leaned back on his haunches, allowing Louis to have a better angle of sight to watch as the green eyed man lubed up two of his fingers, and slid them right into his entrance without any resistance.

“Opened myself up before the club, just in case, you know, but I’m glad it’s you instead of him.” Harry admitted breathlessly, beginning to bounce down on the digits tucked tight inside of him. “I’m going to continue getting m’self ready, and then you’re going to fuck me good and hard.” His instructions were stated nonchalantly, a harsh contrast to the desperate pace at which his fingers were moving. This man would be the death of Louis.

After several painstaking moments in which Louis’ patience was tested, Harry finally removed his fingers from the swell of his bum, giving Louis a sanguine little smile as he gathered the condom in his hands and ripped it open. His tongue stuck out a bit from between his lips in concentration as he rolled it onto Louis’ cock, spreading his legs open wider and slowly sinking himself down onto the throbbing, thick hardness.

Louis’ breath was knocked right out of his lungs.

Velvety. Hot. _Tight_. His mind couldn’t register anything but those three words on a loop. Sure, it could’ve been the lack of decent sex talking, but Louis was about eighty-seven percent certain that Harry was sent by god himself. The way he felt, how he moved, his little breaths and his dirty words. This would be the fuck he’d never forget – the fuck he’d remember for all of his future wanks.

“Feel so fucking full, Lou, god. Knew you’d be big, could see it in your jeans when you were driving.” Harry’s admittance is complimented with breathy moans and whines, only adding to the whole porn-star image he was giving off. Nothing looked or felt better than Harry Styles riding your cock, long hair falling in curly rivets down to his shoulders, cheeks and chest flushed and looking like a fucked-out version of a Renaissance painting.

When his bouncing movements faltered in their rhythm, Louis’ hands spayed over the skin of Harry’s hips and held him steady, feet planted firmly on the mattress as he fucked up in quick, dirty thrusts. The yelps and groans that Louis was rewarded with only served to spur him on further, drilling his cock into Harry’s prostate with expertise, like they’d been fucking for years. At this point, the room reeked of their sex and their bodies were coated with a thin sheen of sweat, the late August heat building not only in the atmosphere, but in their bodies as well. Their climaxes weren’t far off at all.

“Wh-Where do you want me to come?” The words are punched out of Louis with harsh breaths, his lungs unable to keep up with the face pace of his hips. It takes harry a few moments to gather his wits and answer, but when he does, it’s one that Louis highly approves of.

“Pull out and – and come on my ass. Wanna be covered in you.” Harry’s reply was met with two sharp thrusts from Louis, an obscene moan spilling from his lips as he hurriedly pulled himself out of the tightness that was Harry’s hole, discarding of the condom with a sense of desperation and holding his cock in a firm grip as thick ropes of white covered the expanse of Harry’s bum and part of his back.

Harry’s orgasm was almost instantaneous, his fluttering hole clenching around the phantom feeling of Louis’ cock as his own spurted and twitched, the evidence of his pleasure washing over Louis’ stomach and even reaching the smaller man’s collarbones. Feeling boneless and sated, Harry was barely able to lift himself from Louis’ lap before collapsing down onto the plush mattress, curling up with his head rested among the pillows. The smile that stretched across his face was large and sleepy, his limbs sprawling out not unlike an octopus. “I like to be little spoon. Hope you don’t mind.” His words were accented with a yawn, the unspoken invitation of a sleepover hanging in the open air.

Louis sat up, a soft grin and a laugh easily escaping his throat at the nonchalance in which Harry had spoken. It was clear he was only a few minutes away from enjoying a deep sleep, regardless of the semen drying on his posterior. Alas, Louis was a protective and caring soul, and so he informed Harry that we would be back in a moment with a washcloth to clean him off.

The ensuite bathroom was spacious and elegant, and Louis noted that the tub was large enough to fit two people, if one so desired. Perhaps he would make use of that next time. _Next time_. He’d have to speak to Harry in the morning about that.

Once Louis had properly scrubbed himself clean, he’d checked his hair in the mirror and made his way back into the main room. He was met with the sight of Harry’s slumbering form, his mouth slightly open as gentle breaths wafted over the pillow beneath him. Louis shook his head and smiled fondly, an unnamed, warm feeling, pooling in his veins. He approached the larger man with caution, not wanting to disturb his much needed rest as he made quick work of cleansing his release off of Harry’s skin.

As soon as his deed was done, Louis disposed of the washcloth into the laundry bin and prepared himself for bed as well. Forgoing his boxers, Louis grabbed his phone from where it was lying among his forgotten jeans, unlocking it swiftly to inform his roommate that he would not be returning home tonight. And that’s when he noticed the notification.

A five-star rating in his Uber app from one Mr. H. Styles.

 

 

 


End file.
